


blooming gold season

by permutative



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Conversations, M/M, Meet-Cute, When All of Your Mutual Friends Are Friends With Your Crush But You Aren't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/permutative/pseuds/permutative
Summary: “Why aren’t we friends?” Jeno asks.“What?” Jaemin raises his eyebrows, incredulous.“Nevermind,” Jeno continues, rushed. He closes his eyes again, unable to bear Jaemin’s glittering eyes, always telling him something he doesn’t want to see. “That was a stupid question—”“I just think it’s amusing,” Jaemin interrupts. He places a hand on Jeno’s shoulder, welcoming and warm in contrast to the cold, hard door against Jeno’s back. “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that, Jeno-yah?”
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 129
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	blooming gold season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseyong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseyong/gifts).



> many thanks to the mods for running this fest! dear recipient: i took your prompt #3 and one of the pairings you suggested (jaemjen) and kind of just ran with it. i hope you enjoy~

Your fresh fragrance, your sparkling eyes  
Makes me feel better  
Reality loses its power, even the Earth dies  
The moment is eternal

— Our Summer, TXT

It's been a bad day all around. Jeno's pretty sure he failed his midterms, and attending Yangyang's party to _forget about his grades_ hasn't helped matters, just made it worse. He just witnessed his crush making out with someone else in the crowded hallway, and to top it all off his hand is bleeding because of some _asshole_ —

"Hyung," Jisung says, staring down at Jeno's fingers in fascination. From the way he blinks at Jeno, a little slow and dazed, it's clear that he's got a couple of drinks in him already. Jeno's supposed to be _looking after_ Jisung, but he always gives up after an hour or two. "Why is it bleeding—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Jeno snaps. He continues his one-handed search through Yangyang's kitchen, cursing the fact that he can't seem to find a roll of paper towels anywhere. Shouldn't that be the most essential supply for a party like this one? To deal with the spills, and all? He briefly considers heading to the bathroom, using the toilet paper there to wrap up his finger, but that would mean going through _that hallway_ and, even worse, crossing paths with _him_ —

"I don't know, it looks kind of bad, hyung," Jisung continues. He bites down on his lower lip worriedly. "Do you want me to get someone to help?"

Jeno hesitates. Jisung knows a lot of the people here, maybe even more so than Jeno: Renjun through Chenle, Shotaro and Hyunjin through the dance team, even Soobin—one of the more reserved people in their year—as his TA for one of his classes. Jeno knows that the likelihood of Jisung asking any of these people for help regarding a _medical_ issue, though, is quite low. There's only one person Jeno can think of, honestly, and the thought of it spreads dread spiraling through his gut.

But, hey: Jeno isn't dumb to the point of risking his hand bleeding out on the counter, so instead of refusing he licks his lips and says, "Jisung-ah, that sounds like a good idea."

It isn't long before Jisung returns, and as predicted, Jisung had brought _him_ over.

The man in question, of course, being many things:

> (1) Jisung's favorite upperclassman (Yes, Jeno was very put out when he heard this and tackled Jisung accordingly, but at least he still has Chenle, Huang Renjun notwithstanding)  
>  (2) A medical student (For someone studying to be a doctor, Jeno thought that he didn't do a good enough job of taking care of his health. He's seen the coffee orders, alright)  
>  (3) One of the few people in Jeno's year who is both (A) vaguely bisexual (B) vaguely affiliated with Jisung yet not (C) friends with him (Jeno'll get back to you on that one)  
>  (4) Jeno's crush (Jeno's never had good taste in guys, and this is no exception)

"What's this about your hand?" Jaemin asks, striding over quickly. He's frowning, all traces of his usual flirty, teasing smile gone. He reaches out to Jeno's arm, turning his left forearm over gently, and hisses when he sees the cut on Jeno's hand. "Oh, that's—okay."

"Okay?" Jeno echoes, confused. He can't tell whether Jaemin had meant _okay_ as in _not a big deal_ —which Jeno would like to protest, because it certainly _feels_ like a big deal—or _okay_ as in, he can deal with the situation.

"Okay," Jaemin confirms, smiling with a brief flash of teeth. He pats Jeno's shoulder, a gentle touch, and says, "I just need to grab supplies and I'll be right back."

It isn't long before he returns, the first-aid kit in hand. Jeno realizes, as Jaemin makes his way through a throng of tipsy university students, that maybe the kitchen isn’t the best place to do this.

“Maybe we should go somewhere quieter,” Jeno suggests. He winces as he hears a whoop from the room over, most likely some combination of Yangyang or Hendery egging Shotaro on in another dance battle.

Jaemin nods and they quickly find an abandoned spot in the hallway outside the entrance to Yangyang’s apartment. Jeno sits with his back to the door, resting his head against the surface of it, and watches as Jaemin mirrors his actions.

“Alright, give me your hand,” Jaemin says. He starts with the antiseptic, adding some of it to a cotton ball and then bringing it up to Jeno’s fingers. “This’ll probably hurt,” he warns.

“That’s okay,” Jeno replies, swallowing. “I can take it.” He bites back a wince as the antiseptic, predictably enough, stings against the cut.

Despite the hurt, Jaemin’s touch is gentle, careful. Jeno’s reminded of the times he’s seen Jaemin dote on Chenle and Jisung, the ever-present _Are you my mom, Jaemin-hyung?_ that’s Jisung’s foremost form of complaining affection.

“Is this okay?” Jaemin asks, taking out a bottle of Neosporin.

Jeno nods, watching as Jaemin adds ointment. It’s weird, the muted silence in the hallway. The loud music from the party still reverberates against the door, and it makes Jeno feel like his head’s been underwater, dizzy and odd. Or maybe it’s just Jaemin—Jeno’s always drowning when it comes to him.

Finally, Jaemin moves on to bandaging the cut. “Is this too tight, or does it feel alright?”

Jeno closes his eyes. “It’s fine.” He’s practically holding hands with the guy he’s been avoiding for the past two years, maybe. Everything’s okay.

“How did you get hurt, anyway?” Jaemin wonders. Jeno can feel his fingers smoothing across the surface of the bandage, precise and methodical. “It’s not that serious, but this isn’t, like, a papercut or something.”

Jeno blinks his eyes open. The harsh white fluorescent lights of the apartment hallway seem too clinical for this type of conversation. He wants the safety of the darkness, the intimacy of Yangyang’s Instagram-inspired fairy lights, wants the sounds of everyone else to coat his dialogue in something more ambiguous. Instead, he has to confront the truth, stark naked and unadorned.

“Jeno-yah?” Jaemin prompts. Finally, hesitantly, he lets go of Jeno’s hand.

Jeno shrugs, uncomfortable. The truth was he’d seen Jaemin caging in Hwang Hyunjin against the wall in the hallway between the kitchen and the bathroom, hadn’t watched where he was going as he stumbled out of shock, had bumped into some rude stranger and gotten himself hurt out of stupidity, really. But he can never tell Jaemin that, so he casts around blindly for a different subject instead.

“Why aren’t we friends?” Jeno asks.

“ _What?_ ” Jaemin raises his eyebrows, incredulous.

“Nevermind,” Jeno continues, rushed. He closes his eyes again, unable to bear Jaemin’s glittering eyes, always telling him something he doesn’t want to see. “That was a stupid question—”

“I just think it’s amusing,” Jaemin interrupts. He places a hand on Jeno’s shoulder, welcoming and warm in contrast to the cold, hard door against Jeno’s back. “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that, Jeno-yah?”

Jeno’s surprised into opening his eyes. “What?” He stares up at the ceiling for a couple of seconds before glancing over at Jaemin once again. He doesn’t _understand—_

Jaemin smiles, a little sad. “It’s nothing we can change now, anyway.” He squeezes Jeno’s shoulder, a reassuring touch, and Jeno leans into it for a moment. “Whatever.”

They’re both silent for a bit. The sounds of Yangyang’s party, the laughter and the melodies, the joy Jeno cannot understand quite yet bleeding out all around them.

“Just—just make sure you look after yourself, too,” Jaemin continues, soft. He takes his hand off of Jeno’s shoulder. “You spend so much time caring for others, but it’s good to focus on yourself as well.”

Jeno scoffs. “That’s rich coming from you,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’d trust your advice more if you didn’t down six espresso shots on the regular.” Jeno can’t forget the times he’s seen Jaemin across campus, leaving the campus Starbucks with that horrid sludge in his hand. Can’t unremember the times he’s heard Jisung complaining about it: _I swear he’ll get heart disease, Jeno-hyung, but he never listens to me._

“What, you know my coffee order?” Jaemin scoots closer to him, the distance between them disappearing until Jaemin’s shoulder is pressed against his. Jeno can catch a hint of how he smells, the combination of clean laundry and aftershave and his skin underneath, something so clearly human and him.

“Oh—well.” Jeno can feel the heat rising up his cheeks, turning his face away from Jaemin’s stare like it’ll reduce how flustered he feels. He taps his fingers against the bandage, a little nervous. Then again, he can’t miss the solid point of contact between their shoulders, the way it grounds them both. It makes him reckless, honest.

“I’ve just—it’s hard to _not_ notice, really.” Jeno lets the words rest in the air for a second, bare and quivering.

“I’ve felt the same,” Jaemin admits. His voice comes out almost shaky, as hesitant as Jeno has ever heard him and hopeful too. “Even if we never talked that much.”

Jeno swallows. “Then why do you think—why didn’t we—” he breaks off, unable to continue. It feels like prodding at an open cut, picking at a scab—his fingers coming away stained red—because it is a silent, irrevocable fact that they are not friends.

And it is a silent, irrevocable fact that Jeno likes Jaemin regardless. He’s had to deal with years of Chenle prodding him about it, Jisung’s teasing _he’s like my mom, you nag me like my dad, you two might as well date, right?_ Every word scratching deeper than it ought to.

“Me or you?” Jaemin asks. He rubs at the back of his neck, uncertain. “Honestly, I always thought you didn’t like me or something. Um. You kind of avoided me a lot?”

“That wasn’t because I disliked you, Jaemin-ah,” Jeno replies. It’s so odd to him, the way one emotion can be so easily mistaken for another, the way he had hidden his affection and it had presented itself as something wholly different.

“Then why…?” Jaemin’s voice is softer now, more gentle. Used to coaxing out answers from unwilling respondents, maybe—Jeno can imagine him using the same tone on Jisung or Chenle. It should feel condescending, but instead, it’s just precious.

“It was the opposite, really,” Jeno continues. He lets himself drown in the memories: running into Jaemin at the start of his freshman year, stuttering and awkward; never being able to make a proper conversation at group gatherings; Chenle asking him _so why are you guys, like, weird about each other?_ ; and Jeno realizing at the end of it all that they might never be friends. Might just pass each other as the years go by, unsuspecting, unknowing. Blood rushes in his ears.

Jaemin’s eyes widen in understanding. “I get it.” He pauses, then says, fumbling, “you know, I’m not—I wouldn’t be opposed to—”

“I don’t want it to be a one-night thing,” Jeno interrupts, frowning. He thinks about what he saw earlier, Jaemin pressing someone else against the wall of Yangyang’s hallway, thinks about how he’d prefer to have something just two people can see as opposed to the whole world. “I’d rather have more, or… nothing at all.”

Surprisingly, Jaemin’s smile hasn’t abated. He leans in closer. “Never thought you to be dramatic, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno rolls his eyes at that, wills his traitorous heart to calm down. Everything bleeding and rushing inside of him, all the feelings he had held back for too long.

“I’m not,” Jeno insists. He leans forward as well, no longer afraid now that he knows it's reciprocated. Their breaths intermingle, close enough to kiss. “Maybe you just bring it out of me, Jaemin-ah.”

“Alright.” Jaemin looks like he’s on the verge of saying more when the door behind them opens, shoving them both forward with a jolt.

“Oh, there you are,” Chenle says, sounding far too relieved for Jeno’s liking. It’s the tone Chenle uses when he knows he’ll be able to get out of a mess, but only by using his hyungs for help. “I was looking for both of you, I can’t believe you two were just hiding out in the—”

Jeno stands up quickly, already wary. “What is it?” he asks.

Chenle grimaces. “Nothing that bad, it’s just that I think it should be time for Jisung to head home.” He looks over at Jaemin expectantly. Jaemin and Jisung, after all, are roommates. “He’s… well, you’ll see.” Jeno can guess, having already witnessed a couple of parties with Park Jisung in tow. For some reason, it’s always the freshmen who go the hardest.

Jaemin nods. “Looks like I’ll have to go and drag him out, then,” he says, opening the door to step back inside of Yangyang’s apartment. He looks back one last time before stepping across the threshold, smiling directly at Jeno. “Oh, and before I forget—our conversation isn’t over, Jeno-yah. Tomorrow, okay?”

Jeno nods, unable to curb his enthusiasm. “It’s a date.” He resolutely ignores the way Chenle’s eyes widen at his words, the way Chenle immediately pulls out his phone, no doubt to send frantic messages for Jisung and Renjun to peruse over in the morning.

He leaves the party as well, Chenle in tow. As always the night is cold, like a knife to the gut. He's already got a bleeding heart, he's already got cut on his hand, but he knows everything will be okay. While coming over to Yangyang’s apartment didn’t exactly make up for the fact that today was a bad day—well. At least Jeno can look forward to tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to let me know what you think in the comments! [twitter](https://twitter.com/storyboxed)


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